The Curious Lives of R Lutece
by Insane Guy of DOOM
Summary: A series of one short, Lutece-themed stories and prompts given to me via tumblr. Rating range from K to T.
1. Peak of Serenity

_This prompt is an odd man out, with nothing whatsoever to do with Robert &amp; Rosalind are Dead, in fact this one is a crossover with World of Warcraft. The original prompt was from anonymous and was "robert and rosalind learning a martial art". _

Peak of Serenity

"So, you wish to train in the ways of the monk?" Master Cheng grinned sagely at his two newest recruits. The recruits, a human man and woman, nodded but without much conviction. Cheng was used to teaching pandaren like himself, but ever since the mists had parted, all sorts of strange outsider races had come to the Peak to train under him and the other masters. He and his new students were on one of the main rises of the Peak of Serenity, a series mountain bluffs located high in the frozen Kun Lai Summit.

In lieu of their traditional suits, Robert and Rosalind were donned in the attire of monk initiates. A black vest, rope belt, and black pants which came down midway between their ankles and knees. They were positive that if not for the benefits of their quantum superposition, their bare feet would be suffering from frost bite. Master Cheng wore more regal dressing befitting a monk master. He too was barefoot without any sign of the cold bothering him, but then again he was a six foot tall, bipedal, sapient panda.

"Students from all skill levels train here at the Peak of Serenity, so do be intimidated. I am sure you will quickly advance in our ranks and chose a discipline," Cheng smiled, showing his fanged teeth. "But first you must acquaint yourselves with the most basic of our abilities."

"Let us start with the blackout kick. A simple, yet highly effective technique." Cheng motioned to a t-shaped wooden pole with two, green punching bags hanging from either side of it. "Allow me to demonstrate." Cheng turned to face the punching bag and swung his right leg forward in a roundhouse kick that the Luteces' would have thought impossible given his rotund form. As his foot connected with the sandbag a mass of black energy trailed from the kick and burned against the bag's surface.

Cheng turned back to the Luteces and pressed his palms together, then bowed. "Now you try."

This venture had been Robert's idea, so Rosalind glanced from him to the punching bag, wordlessly telling him to go first. Robert stepped up the bag and tried to mimic the half-crouched, arms forward combat stance he'd seen some of the other trainees use.

He tried to swing his leg out as Master Cheng had done, but ended up spinning around while missing the sandbag entirely. Robert managed to do a complete circle before toppling over onto the frozen stone ground.

"Do not attempt a spinning crane kick," Master Cheng scolded. "That is for far more advanced students." He pointed a clawed finger at Rosalind. "Now you try, and don't attempt to impress me with complex techniques like your comrade. It will get you no favors."

Rosalind stepped over Robert, who was still acquainting himself with the ground, to attempt her own blackout kick. Upon lifting up her leg, she swayed back and forth, throwing her arms out for balance. This was not enough and she fell backwards onto Robert. Master Cheng covered his face with his paw.

"You know," Robert said, "I think I've learned enough martial arts for one day."

Rosalind nodded. "Agreed. The cold bothered me, anyway."

The twins blinked away from that reality, leaving Master Cheng in a stunned silence. Then he clutched his generous stomach and released a deep belly laugh. "Ah-ha! I see, Chani's newest brew must be more potent than I thought!"


	2. Ménage a Lutece

_This prompt came from anonymous and was "How about some Robert/Elizabeth? (Dunno why, I just think it's a cute ship but still secondary to Lutecest)". Also, as many of the prompts have been in continuity with Robert &amp; Rosalind are Dead, I should clarify that this one most certainly is not. _

Ménage a Lutece

Rosalind had often told Elizabeth "One must crawl before they learn to walk," in regards to her new quantum superposition. There had been many unfortunate incidents when, trying to return to the Luteces, she would blink in on them while the twins were in… compromising… positions. Looking back after the fact, Elizabeth felt that the Luteces' complete misinterpreting of those accidents were what had led to her current predicament.

"We understand that your new form of existence may leave feeling unable to relate to normal individuals," Rosalind said.

Elizabeth was sitting on the Luteces' bed in their pocket universe home, the twins standing in front of her like parents giving a lecture.

"And we are aware that at your age certain… urges are made manifest. Ones that you have been denied the chance to explore naturally, in part due to our own actions," Robert added.

"While Robert and I had each other for comfort during these times, we can only imagine what it must be like for you," Rosalind paused, then she gestured at Robert. "Our bond is one that transcends any physical action, so you would not come between us, if that worries you."

Elizabeth frowned, trying to figure out what they were implying. Her eyes shot open with realization. "Wait, are… are you offering to let me sleep with Robert?!"  
"No." Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. "We are offering for you to sleep with _us_."

"In Paris they would call it a ménage a trois," Robert said.

"But-but you've known me since I was a baby!" Elizabeth scooted further onto the bed, away from the Luteces.

"And now you are a woman," Robert smiled in an attempt at encouragement. "A… fully developed woman."

Elizabeth tried another strategy to dissuade them. "But-but, Rosalind's a girl! She wouldn't want to—"

"If you are worried that I lack experience in such matters, I'll have you know there a quite a few universes in which I'm a lesbian." Rosalind reached out and put her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. "So I can assure I know what I'm doing. Or in this case what I'll be doing to you."

"I think there might've been a miscommunication somewhere," Elizabeth gently removed Rosalind's hand from her shoulder. "I mean, you two have been very nice to me, but I'm not sure if…"

Elizabeth paused. While the abruptness of this offer was startling, she could not deny having felt the loneliness and desires the Luteces believed she had. Of course those desires had never been focused on Luteces, but they were there in an abstract sense. Besides, Booker had already _had a child_ when he was nineteen.

The Luteces stood expressionless, waiting for Elizabeth's response.

"Well, I guess… maybe it might be good to… experiment… a little." Elizabeth pushed herself closer to the Luteces. "We can always stop if things aren't…" She trailed off.

"Of course," Robert answered, taking Elizabeth's hand. "We're doing this a favor to you."

"In that case…" Elizabeth smiled. "I guess, let's get going."

###

Elizabeth lay naked in bed, sandwiched between the equally nude Luteces. She looked from one to another in awkward silence.

"So…"

"This might've been a mistake," Rosalind said.

"Definitely," Elizabeth replied.

Robert leaned over to look directly at the two women. "Really?" He frowned. "I had an incredible time." They both glared at him.


	3. The Haunting Hour

_This prompt came from "lutecestintensifies" and was "I had an idea that I think you'd be better suited to write than me. What if the Luteces troll Comstock and Fink on Halloween every year after their deaths?" I might do the next Halloween in the future._

The Haunting Hour

October 31st

1910

Fink had passed out in his "Time for Sleep" private room with a bottle of wine dangling from his hand once again. Halloween was not a holiday celebrated by Columbia, but this particular Halloween held a deep personal significance to him anyway. It was exactly one year from the day Fink had killed the Lutece twins.

There were rumors of course that the twins weren't dead. There had been that funeral photographer who claimed they insulted him on how "un-lifelike" their corpses had been photographed to be. He was now institutionalized, but sightings of the Luteces had popped up from time to time ever since. Especially in less reputable papers like the _Columbian Enquirer_. Jeremiah Fink was not a superstitious man but there was something about today that had wormed its way into his mind. A feeling of unease, a slight hint of dread. So he had done the obvious and drank himself into a stupor.

"Fink…" A hand gently came to rest on Fink's right shoulder.

"Fink…" The hand shook him back and forth. Fink burbled in his sleep and slowly came to. He forced his eyes open and saw two blurry figures standing in front of him. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision and the figures coalesced into Robert and Rosalind Lutece.

"Hello, Fink." Rosalind waved. Fink jumped back, the force almost knocking his chair over. It tottered, but eventually settled itself.

"Th-this isn't possible! You're dead! I killed you!" Fink stammered.

"OooooOoOOoOOOOOoooooooo," Robert began to moan. He walked away from Fink and ran his hand over the nearest table, knocking a flowerpot and voxophone to the floor. Then he went to Fink's wardrobe and began to swing the doors open and closed.

"Wh-what is he doing?" Fink pointed to Robert while staring up at Rosalind for an answer. Bafflement had overwhelmed his shock and terror.

Rosalind pinched the bridge of her nose and glared at Robert. "Brother, he can see us."

Robert either did not hear or ignored Rosalind, as he continued to moan and walked back to Fink. He took Fink's wine bottle and raised it up and down.

"We are not invisible!" Rosalind threw up her hands.

Robert paused, "We're not?" He glared at Fink. "Can you see us?" Fink nodded. "Damn it."

Rosalind sighed and went over to Fink's lamp. She switched it off and darkness enveloped the room. Terrified of what they might do next, Fink scrambled for the lamp and tried to turn it back on, his hands slipping several times before finally re-lighting it.

Fink whipped his head around the room, but the Luteces were nowhere to be seen.

###

"I shall lead us on this visit. You've proven yourself incompetent." Rosalind glared at her brother.

"I was sure we could separate ourselves from one plain of existence enough to appear ethereal, if not completely intangible."

"The ghost idea was childish anyway. If we are going to torment our would-be assassins, we must do so with finesse."

Two appeared in Comstock's bedroom, where the Prophet of Columbia was fast asleep. Rosalind approached him and pulled the covers down.

"Fetch me a razor and some shaving cream if you will," She ordered Robert. He nodded and blinked away, returning in an instant with the necessary materials. "Our 'prophet' hates resembling Booker DeWitt, and facial hair can take such a long time to regrow..."

Rosalind snickered, taking the razor and cream from Robert's hand.

"Shouldn't I be the one doing this? I have actual experience with shaving after all."

"You lost your chance after that last display. Besides, how different could it be from shaving one's legs?" She sprayed out a dollop of shaving cream and began to lather it over Comstock's face.

With a deft swipe, she sliced off a portion of Comstock's beard. The attention caused Comstock to stir, but he did not wake.

"Ooh, Fitzroy…" He muttered in his sleep. "Get your tight butt over here…"

Robert covered his mouth to prevent bursting out in laughter and waking Comstock. Rosalind set the shaving cream can down and did the same with her free hand. The hand holding the razor blade though was now slightly shaking with mirth.

"See, brother, there's nothing to it." Rosalind moved on and nicked Comstock on the cheek. His eyes shot open and Comstock threw himself upright, knocking Rosalind away.

The razor blade deepened the gash on his cheek as it fell away. Comstock clutched at his injured cheek and stared wild-eyed at the Luteces. His face was now half clean-shaven and half bearded.

"Look, he's Zachary Comstock." Rosalind pointed to the bearded half of the prophet's face.

"He's Booker DeWitt." Robert pointed to his shaven half.

"No… he's both," the twins said in unison.

"What devilry is this?!" Comstock shouted.

"He's still trying to take the ground of a religious man," Robert smirked.

"That he is. Father Comstock, I thought murder was a sin?" Rosalind titled her head at Comstock.

"Thou shalt not kill," Robert stated matter-of-factly while raising his index finger.

"You're not real! You-You're not real!" Comstock screamed.

The Luteces stepped walked backwards away from Comstock's bed.

"Oh, we are real," Rosalind began.

"And we are most likely immortal now," Robert continued.

"So we offer you our thanks," Rosalind bowed.

"I'm sure this won't be the last we see of each other," Robert finished.

They stepped further back and disappeared into the shadows. Comstock waited for the Luteces to return and berate him further, but nothing happened. He got up to tend to his still bleeding cheek and noticed, to his absolute horror, that he had wet himself in fright.

###

"Oh I haven't had that much fun since I was a girl," Rosalind laughed.

"Shall we make this a yearly activity then?" Robert asked.

"Most certainly," Rosalind rubbed her hands together. "I already have several ideas for a more satisfying encounter with Fink."


	4. Grand Theft Lutece

This prompt was from anonymous: "the luteces go through a tear and go on a crime spree".

Grand Theft Lutece

"Are you mad?!" Robert threw his hands up in exasperation.

"I indulged you on that business with the girl, it would be only fair for you to do the same for me," Rosalind said.

"But a _crime spree_?"

"Weren't you always captivated by the villains populating the novels we read as children?"

"No." Robert frowned. Since obtaining quantum immortality, the Luteces had committed many acts which would be considered criminal, but always for a greater good. Or at least if the person, like the boy who had picked on both of them in grade school, really deserved it.

"Hmm, an unfortunate variable. Well I promise you no one shall come to any undue harm." She held out her hand. "Do I have your agreement?"

Robert sighed. "Fine." He shook Rosalind's hand and they departed.

###

It was a slow August day in 1975 for the Southwest Bank in San Diego, California. Slow until two immaculately dressed ginger criminals burst through the doors. The few customers shot their arms up while the two bank tellers on duty cowered behind the desks.

The Luteces each had a small handgun and wore pantyhose over their head.

"This is a robbery!" Rosalind waved her gun in front of the bank patrons.

"I'm sure they were already aware of that," Robert said dryly.

Rosalind scowled at Robert, then approached the nearest teller. She shoved her gun at the teller's face.

"You are to take two of your largest bags and fill them the largest sum of money that will fit within."

The clerk nodded and backed away slowly towards the vault. Rosalind turned to Robert, who had his gun trained on the second teller while smiling apologetically.

"Alright, let's go," Rosalind said and stuffed her gun back into her waistcoat's pocket.

"What?" Robert glared. "What about the money?"

"I thought you didn't want anyone hurt, brother?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"The rush comes from the hold-up, which has already passed. It's time for our next act." Rosalind walked to the door and held it open for Robert. "Come on, we're going to get into a high-speed car chase next."

Robert groaned and followed her to out to the street. "You are aware that neither of us know how to drive, right?"

"There are plenty of universes where we were born after the advent of the automobile. We'll just draw on their experiences."

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head in defeat. "I'll go find instructions on how to hotwire a vehicle. I doubt any of ourselves have done that before."

"Of course they have, brother. The possibilities are infinite."


	5. The Haunting Hour 2

_This wasn't a specific prompt. Instead I felt like writing more about the previous "The Haunting Hour" prompt._

The Haunting Hour 2

Fink had tried to push the Luteces' appearance last Halloween out of his mind, that it was just a strangely vivid drunken nightmare. He had never told another soul of the event, but after that night Father Comstock had acted strangely as well. He didn't show his face for over a month, and for a short while posters warning of "the False Shepard" were plastered over nearly every surface in Columbia.

Now, on October the 31st of 1911, Fink spent the day on edge. Every attempt to convince himself that the Luteces' visit had been nothing but a fever dream fell flat. His anxiety only intensified by evening, close to the time when the twins had appeared last year. Fink tried to brush those thoughts away with business, and went to his work desk to review some research notes on his latest inventions.

Within moments of sitting down, the lights began to flicker. Fink chuckled nervously, insisting to himself that it was just some faulty wiring. Then something touched his shoulder. Fink whipped his head around, struggling to turn the chair with him.

"_For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow,_" Rosalind sang while Robert blew a party horn in sync with her. Robert was also holding a small cake in his hands. "_For he's a jolly-good fellow, and so say all of us!"_

While Rosalind continued singing, Robert handed Fink the cake. Written in blue frosting on top was "Happy 2nd Anniversary of Your (Failed Attempt at) Murdering Us".

Fink set the cake down on his desk and breathed heavily. He got up and stared down the Luteces. "Alright, let me make this clear for you two. I don't know how you survived, but I'm going to find out, and then, I'm going to make sure you stay dead!"

"No, you're not," Rosalind answered. "We already checked. Your failure to kill us is a constant."

Fink turned away and sat back down. "Get out of my office," he rasped. Pushing the cake aside, Fink reached for his notes only for his hand to hit the vacant desk surface. "What? Where're my notes? Lutece!" He kept his back to the Luteces, not wanting to dignify them with eye contact.

"Hotter, you're getting hotter," Rosalind said while pointing to Fink's left foot.

Fink leaned over and felt around the floor by his leg for any papers, he found nothing but dust.

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, dear Rosalind," Robert interrupted, having put the party horn away. "He's very cold." Fink growled. He began to get up from the desk.

"No, brother, I specifically recall hiding them in a location near Fink," Rosalind's comment prompted Fink to sit back down and look through his desk again.

"Oh no, you don't suppose this means…?" Rosalind asked her brother, ignoring Fink entirely.

"I'm afraid so," Robert answered. "I'm terribly sorry, Fink, but we seem to have misplaced your notes."

"Just. Get. Out," Fink hissed through his clenched teeth. The lights flickered again, and Fink was alone.

###

After spending the rest of the evening searching in vain for his research notes, Fink gave up. He decided to take his mind off the day's events with a nice, relaxing bath. The Luteces had not shown themselves again, and Fink thought he was in the clear. He stepped into his modest bathroom in nothing but a robe, and with a towel under his arm.

Hot steam blasted Fink as soon as he entered. The shower curtains were drawn up, and the water was running. He dropped his towel and clenched his fist.

"Who's in there!?" Fink had a pretty good idea who it could be, but he had to be certain. If it turned out to be his son or some maid it would quite embarrassing to be caught screaming about dead scientists.

The curtain was pulled back, and Robert Luteces' head peeked out. "Hello again, Fink." Robert stuck his hand out and waved.

"Why are you in my shower!?" Fink yelled, his nerves plucked raw by the Luteces' return.

"To clean myself, I thought that would be obvious."

Before Fink could articulate a response, another voice came from behind the shower curtain.

"Brother, would you hand me the soap?" Rosalind asked.

Fink clenched his fists so tightly his fingernails nearly broke the skin of his palms. "Why are you _both_ in my shower!?" Horrible images were rushing into his mind.

"To conserve water," Robert answered, "Again, I thought that would be obvious."

"Leave! Leave! Leave!" Fink was screaming now.

Robert nodded and retreated behind the curtain. The water stopped, followed by the curtain being pulled open to reveal the Luteces. What Fink saw nearly broke him.

"Why are you wearing _clothes_ in my shower!?" His face turned a deep red, nearly purple as he shouted.

"Because they needed a wash too," Rosalind said as if it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

Robert's eye widened, and he reached deep into his pocket. "Oh, I just remembered!" He withdrew a soaking wad of paper, ink pooling around it in his hand. "Your notes were in my pocket the entire time."

"Here you go." Robert held out the ruined notes for Fink to take.

"Get out."

###

Father Comstock would not be made a fool of again like last year. He forced himself to stay awake the entirety of Halloween night, sitting patiently by his bed, and waiting. Those godless, incestuous, attempted lamb-stealing traitors would not catch him unaware. It was now well past sundown and the Luteces had not appeared. Perhaps his vigilance had scared them away, or the Lord had finally brought His wrath down upon their sinful beings.

The door to his bedroom slammed shut. Comstock was not startled, he had left the door open a smidge as a trap to lure out the Luteces. He smiled and approached the door to confront them. Perhaps death could not touch them, but the light of holy justice would certainly be far more difficult for them to avoid.

Comstock pulled the door open, but saw no one in the outer hall. He looked from left to right, then closed the door again. Returning to his bed he found that his personal copy of the Bible had been placed on it. Strange, Comstock swore he had left it on the nightstand when he had gotten up.

A page near the middle of the Bible stuck out beyond the others. Curious, Father Comstock took the Bible and opened it to the disturbed page. The text didn't match, nor the font. From all the notes he'd seen over the years, Comstock immediately recognized the new text as one of the Lutece's handwriting. Their handwriting, like many things about them, was nearly identical, so he could not be sure which one of them had defaced his property. Comstock reached over to the nightstand and withdrew his reading glasses. He put the glasses on and began to read.

_"Oh Zachary," Fink moaned. _

_ "Don't worry, my sweet. The Lord has provided us with everything needed for tonight." Comstock winked devilishly. He grabbed a bottle of Lutece Labs Infusion. "It should be suitable for our purposes…" He whispered while pouring the infusion down onto his…_

Comstock slammed the book shut. He would have to burn it. There was no other option.


	6. Sensory Breaks

_An exploration into the idea that the Luteces are on the autism spectrum._

* * *

**Sensory Breaks**

_August 1893_

_Columbia_

Rosalind shoved the door to Lutece Labs open and went straight for the bedroom. She nearly tripped on the recently splintered wood, the Lutece device having grown so much in complexity that she had to dismantle half the bedroom floor to accommodate it.

The device wasn't on her mind at the time. Rosalind had spent all day at a Founder's meeting on the status of Columbia. There was constant discussion, constant interacting with people, constant enduring of the alien touch of another person's hand when was required to shake it. Constant noise from various conversations, constantly having to figure out how to navigate responses to mundane pleasantries when all she wanted to do was talk about how the Lutece particles were functioning within Columbia and the physics behind them. She had ended up leaving before the gathering was even over, stating that there was a project she needed to monitor. There wasn't, the Lutece device was not ready to be activated yet, and there was nothing else she had been working on. The Lutece device had taken up almost every waking moment of Rosalind's life for the past few months.

She drew the curtains shut and pulled the comforter and sheets down her bed enough to get in. Rosalind climbed in and wrapped both the coverings tightly around herself. She pressed the side of her face into one of the bed's many pillows, shut her eyes, and began to curl her body into a slight fetal position. She was not tired, nor trying to fall asleep. Rosalind simply let her mind relax and allow her body to be overcome with the soft snugness of her bed.

Rosalind stayed like this for thirty minutes. Once the stress of the day had vanished and her mind felt collected, she emerged from bed and went down to work on the device. She decided that once it was functional and the man who was and was not her, who she already referred to as brother in her thoughts, would meet her face to face, that she would ask if he too needed these "sensory breaks".


	7. Bath Rhymes

**Bath Rhymes**

It was an early January morning in 1894 in Lutece Labs. Rosalind sat at her dresser, brushing her hair while Robert took a shower.

Rosalind was eternally grateful that Robert's condition had improved to the point that was nearly independent. He still bled often and would occasionally suffer from fainting spells or entering a confused delirium, but those events were becoming fewer and farther between. She was especially happy that Robert was well enough to use the shower without her having to worry about him passing out while locked in the bathroom. The sponge baths which had preceded his recovery were events Rosalind wished to never re-live.

Her thoughts were jarred away when she heard something coming from the bathroom. Fearing that Robert may have had a relapse, Rosalind stood up and walked over to the bathroom door. The sound was still rather muffled, so she placed her ear to the door.

"_I'm a little teapot, short and stout,_" Robert sang amid the sound of running water. "_Here is my handle, here is my spout!_"

Rosalind covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Singing in the shower wasn't an abnormal trait, but his choice in music was rather unorthodox.

"_Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream._" Robert's voice didn't have the slur indicative of delirium. He sounded alright, and Rosalind merely chalked this up to be just another odd variable between them. "_Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream!_"

She decided to leave before he started a verse of "Ring around the Rosy". Rosalind sat back down at the dresser and pulled out a collection of hairpins.

"_Ring around the rosy, pockets full of posy,_" Robert had started singing loud enough for Rosalind to hear clearly from across the room. Rosalind groaned, she hadn't actually thought he would start singing that. "_Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!_"

The unexpectedness, and noise, of Robert's singing was wearing Rosalind's nerves thin at a breakneck pace.

"_London Bridge is falling down, falling down!_"

Before he could finish the verse, Rosalind sang back as loud as possible, matching the rhyme's tone "_Brother, stop singing right now, it's really quite annoying!_"

Robert was silent for the next few moments. Rosalind heard the shower's water turn off, then the bathroom door opened just enough for Robert to peek his head out.

"You heard that?" He asked, mortified.


	8. Elizabeth's Observations

Another musing about the Luteces are autistic headcanon.

* * *

**Elizabeth's Observation**

Since coming to "live" with the Luteces, Elizabeth had realized they were even stranger than she had first thought. There was their disturbingly intense level of eye contact, which to Elizabeth felt like they didn't truly understand the point of looking someone in the face and were overcompensating. She'd noticed that even before, in Columbia.

These others idiosyncrasies, however, were only gradually revealing themselves. The first thing Elizabeth noticed was difficult it was to hold a conversation with the twins. They'd talk for hours about quantum physics, or mathematical theorems, or about other realities they'd visited, or experiments, but not much else. Eventually they stopped talking to Elizabeth about those subjects too, as if the Luteces realized she didn't want to hear about them, but could not think of anything else to talk about.

Other times, Elizabeth would come across them just hugging. Not in a sibling way, or even a romantic way. Robert and Rosalind would just clutch each other tightly, as if trying to squeeze the life out of the other. They would just stand like this, and despite how uncomfortable it looked to Elizabeth, the Luteces were always incredibly relaxed and cheerful afterwards.

She would accidentally brush up against one of them, and they would recoil as if struck, shivering for a moment. The first time it had happened, Rosalind admonished that Elizabeth never try to make physical contact with them unless it was obvious beforehand that she was going to do so.

Even the most interesting aspect of being with the Luteces, exploring the infinite realities around them, was not as Elizabeth had expected. The Luteces would arrive, do whatever it was they had planned to do there, then leave as soon as possible. They never explored, or talked to anyone they didn't already want to talk to. Elizabeth felt like it was less a fascinating exploration of the multiverse, and more a waste of time.

Yet after these trips, the Luteces would seem drained. They wouldn't want to talk, or do anything else. Usually they'd go straight to bed and wrap themselves in the covers for a few minutes, then get up as if nothing had happened.

Elizabeth had tried asking the Luteces about these behaviors, but they never gave her a satisfactory answer.

"We want you to think of us as ourselves first, not as people on a spectrum," Rosalind said after Elizabeth's fifteenth inquiry. She didn't entirely understand, but stopped asking after that.


	9. Interruption on the Von Braun

_I've started playing System Shock 2, and its sort of connection to Infinite via scrapped content gave me a mini-ficlet idea!_

* * *

**Interruption on the Von Braun**

The soldier, his mind was too scrambled from recent surgery to remember his own name, moved through the sterile corridors of the Von Braun. At least, most of them were sterile. Whatever had happened while he was unconscious had put sections of the space ship into heavy disrepair, and the damage was only increasing.

The only solace, and guidance he had on this nightmarish ship was the voice of Dr. Polito, a scientist on board who had fed him all the information necessary to stay alive. His comm unit crackled, signaling she was about to speak again.

"Hello, is this going through?" The voice was a woman's, but definitely not Polito's. It was higher pitched, with a British accent. "This is Rosalind Lutece. Sorry for commandeering your communications channel but it is-"

"Are you sure it's wise to interrupt him?" A male voice, also with a British accent, asked. The soldier might have had amnesia, but of all the audio files he'd found so far, no one on board sounded anything like these two.

"Of course it is. It's all part of the circle, after all." The woman, Rosalind, responded.

"So do you think this is the Lighthouse, or the City?"

"Well this is a ship, and lighthouses guide ships, so its certainly not the Lighthouse." Rosalind said. While the soldier continued to hear their conversation, there was no sign they even remembered he was there.

"But its also quite a stretch to call it a city, don't you think?"

"Well either way, he is definitely the Man."

"I thought that hacker was the Man?"

"Maybe this one has two Men?"

"Constants and variables."

The soldier had no time for…. whatever was going on, he reached up to his implants and switched the communicator off.

"Did he just try to mute us?" Rosalind asked. The soldier jumped. He rechecked the communicator, somehow it had been turned back on.

"Well we haven't been much of a help to him, we've done nothing but argue like an old married couple."

"You say that as if it's unique for us to be doing so, I'd say 'old married couple' is our default state of being."

"But we're not married, unless you've-"

"It's a figure of speech, Robert."

The soldier had no plans of dignifying these two were with a response. He decided to resume his trek through the Von Braun's halls without paying attention to the voices. He wondered if maybe they were just another of those strange psionic 'ghosts' Polito had talked about.

"He's ignoring us!" The man, Robert, said in mock annoyance. Then again, their tone was so sarcastic at all times it was hard for the soldier to discern what if anything they said was meant to be taken seriously.

"Well you can't fault us for trying."

"Should we warn him about data access network at least?"

"No we shall not. Serves him right for disregarding our council."

"We haven't given him any council yet."

"Well he's not getting any now."

Finally, the soldiers immense relief, the voices ceased.


	10. The Letter

**The Letter**

Robert tapped his foot nervously. He held his hands tightly clasped with one in front of him and one to the back, ensuring they wouldn't twitch with anxiety. Rosalind stared at him through the tear on the alley wall. Why the tear always opened in this, fortunately secluded, alleyway near Robert's house instead of inside it was a mystery neither Lutece had made any headway on.

"Comstock has agreed to provide everything necessary for your relocation," Rosalind said, leaning out through the tear. "A birth certificate, academic transcripts, it will be as if you had lived in my reality your entire life. All he asks for in return is that we bring him the girl."

"Are you alright, brother? You seem distant."

"Oh, yes. I'm just a bit preoccupied," Robert answered. "I must settle my affairs here before departing. I doubt I shall ever see this world again."

"Don't worry about the sickness. It can be survived, I am certain of it." Rosalind's conviction didn't seem to have an effect on Robert.

"It's not that. Whether I survive or not, I will still be abandoning everything. My entire life, everything I have ever known." Rosalind opened her mouth to reply but Robert held up his hand to silence her. "Do not mistake that for reluctance. As I've said before I shall do anything to allow us to be together, but that doesn't cancel out the effects of the sacrifice."

Rosalind paused, thinking on a response. Before she could decide on one, the tear began to fluctuate. "Damn it. The device becomes unstable the longer it is in use. I'll have to close the tear now." She reached over a switch out of Robert's view. "Just think, brother. In a few days there will be nothing separating us save for a single chromosome." Rosalind smiled and the tear irised-out.

Robert breathed deeply to calm himself. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew an envelope. There was a post office just down the block, and he could not afford to hold off on sending it any longer. At this point it likely wouldn't even reach England until after he had already departed.

###

Several weeks later, Oliver and Vivian Lutece sat at their dining room table. They had just received a letter in the mail from Robert, only the second they'd been sent since he left to study abroad in America.

_Dearest Mother and Father,_

_I know I have not written you as much as I should have, and am I afraid that will not be changing. My work has led to a discovery of immense importance, it is far too complicated to explain, so I must ask you to take me on my word alone._

_To continue my studies in this new field I must travel even farther away. So far that I will likely not be able to contact you ever again. Do not try to contact me, I shall already be situated in my new residence by the time you have received this letter._

_On a final note, I presume _you, Mother especially,_ will be happy to know I have found someone. You would both like her, I'm sure you'd soon come to think of her as your own daughter. She is beautiful, and intelligent, a fellow scientist even. In fact we shall be working together on this discovery. I love her as I love myself. However I have made no attempt to further a relationship quite yet. We will be quite consumed by our work, and as you can imagine she is not the marrying or child-rearing sort. However between my work and her presence I will be happy._

_Perhaps one day I will be able to contact you again, or even visit, though I find both rather unlikely. I want you to know that I love you both and I will be alright._

_Your son,_

_Robert_


	11. The Lighthouse Keeper

**The Lighthouse Keeper**

The lighthouse keeper struggled against his bonds, but the ropes were expertly tied. He couldn't see his assailants due to the burlap sack hastily stuffed over his head, but he could certainly hear them.

"I rowed us all the way here, it's only fair that you be the one to shoot him," Robert said.

"Well I wasn't on our secondary school's rowing team, it's simply playing into your strengths," Rosalind answered with a huff.

"And that has nothing to do with either of our abilities to dispatch this unfortunate fellow."

"I merely question why I _have _do anything, this was your idea, after all."

"Because we are a _team_, dear Rosalind. And as for this being my idea, you were the one who stressed that he must die."

"Well of course he must. You saw what he did to the last three Bookers."

"And I'm merely suggesting that it's only fair that you play a part in this as well, instead of leaving all the action to me. Especially after I just rowed us here," Robert shrugged. "It's only fair."

"Life isn't fair, brother. If it was we'd still be in our lab, sipping tea while debating the finer points of the many worlds hypothesis."

"Just shoot the man, Rosalind. It's doing no favors to anyone having him cowering in anticipation."

"Then why don't you shoot him yourself instead of wasting time arguing with me about it?"

"And what then would your participation in our mission be?"

"If you're uncomfortable with killing this man then it's all the more reason for you to do so. If we are to see this through, there will be many far more troubling actions we must take. It's best for you to desensitize yourself now."

"You're sadly mistaken, I have no issue with this."

"Then shoot him."

"Then what's the point of you being here if you're not going to do anything?"

"Honestly, brother, it's not that bad. He's just one of an infinite number of lighthouse keepers spread across the multiverse. Removing one version of himself from the equation won't be of concern to anyone in the grand scale of things."

"It would be of concern to me!" The lighthouse keeper yelled back.

"Silence!" Rosalind snapped. "You should've already been killed five minutes ago. We're dreadfully behind schedule." After a moment of silence, she sighed in defeat. "Alright, fine. Hand me the gun."

The lighthouse keeper heard the thunder crack of the gun, then nothing more.


	12. Admit that You Care

**Admit that You Care**

"It's alright, you know."

"_What_ is alright, brother?"

"To admit that you care."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That you care about the girl. About all this."

"Hardly. I've made my feelings on this business perfectly clear to you."

"Yes… you have."

"I don't see what you're getting at, brother."

"Why else would you go through all of this? If you didn't care, that is."

"Because _you_ threatened to leave me if I did not."

"Do you honestly think I'd do such a thing? I don't think you do."

"You seemed quite certain when you gave your ultimatum."

"Then I ask, dear Rosalind, could you ever bring yourself to separate us even for a noble goal?"

"-"

"Don't answer; it was a rhetorical question."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Ah, but the point remains. My ultimatum was, at least in part, a bluff. And you were fully aware of that when you agreed. Yet you still went through with it. Why else but because deep inside you do care about her?"

"…I did it to make you happy, brother. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh that's certainly part of why you helped, perhaps the majority of why, but its not the sole reason, I don't think so."

"I think you're putting far too much thought into this. Can you not just accept that not everyone cares as much about girls in towers and debts as you do?"

"I can accept plenty of people don't care as much as I do. However I don't know those people nearly as well as I know you."

"If it will silence you on this matter, I shall admit… When it was all said and done… when Elizabeth broke the circle, I was… content with our decision to have seen this through. There. Are you satisfied now?"

"More than you shall ever know."


	13. Brought to you by Folger's

This prompt from Autisticluteces was "Somebody needs to do a fic with the Luteces in that Folgers Coffee Christmas incest commercial."

* * *

**Brought to you by Folger's**

Robert stepped into the kitchen, a small package held in the crook of his arm. He knocked on the wall with his free hand to alert anyone of his presence. As if on queue, Rosalind appeared in front of him.

"Where have you _been_? I waited up all night for you to return from whatever errand you were on." She struggled between the idea of embracing Robert for his return, or hitting him for vanishing in the first place.

"It's a long way from West Africa." Robert presented the package to Rosalind. "Not necessarily for beings such as us, but I had greater trouble locating this."

Rosalind took the package from him. It was tightly wrapped in simple paper, with a red bow on top. "Hmm?"

"I brought you something for Holidays, from far away."

Without even bothering to open it, Rosalind tore the bow off and tossed the package away. She pressed the bow to Robert's chest while he stared at her.

"What are you doing?"

"You shall be my present this year, brother." Rosalind placed her hands on Robert's shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. Elizabeth at this moment appeared in the kitchen, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Ahem," Elizabeth coughed. "You know, most people don't kiss their 'brother' like that."

The Luteces separated and glared at her. "And most daughters don't drown their father in a river."


	14. The Birth of Lutecest

_"Or, An Argument that Lutecest Isn't Incest"_

* * *

**The Birth of Lutecest**

"Luteces Deny Accusations of Incest… Again."

Comstock threw the newspaper onto to his desk with barely contained fury, pointing at the incriminating headline. Rosalind and Robert Lutece sat opposite from him, expressionless as always. Comstock sat down and breathed heavily, no one spoke for several moments.

"Well," Rosalind's voice cut through the silence, "We're not lying."

Comstock inhaled deeply then leaned back into his chair. "And how, pray tell, is that?"

"We're not actually siblings," Robert answered. "In fact, considering I'm from another reality, you could argue we're less related than any other two people could be."

"You're the same person! How is that anything but sinful?" Comstock slammed his fists on the table. He had 'tolerated' the twins' relationship because they were necessary for Columbia. But every year his patience withered, and his disgust grew larger.

"If Rosalind and I's relationship must be classified as anything, it would be nothing more than…" Robert paused to think, "A highly complex form a masturbation."

"And how is that any better?"

"If you were to persecute that particular sin, I imagine you'd have to punish the entire adult population of Columbia," Rosalind quipped.

"Give me one reason why I should not have you two be the subjects of this July's raffle." Comstock narrowed his eyes at the two. He would not be made fun of in his own home.

Rosalind took the chance of smirking slightly. "For the same reason you've censored the paper. Even if you found someone who could serve our role in Columbia's upkeep, you wouldn't dare risk the scandal. Imagine the horror of Columbia's populace that their beloved Prophet would harbor an incestuous couple for all these years. Or even worse, would be unaware of such a sin committed right under his nose. Some prophet you would be."

"You do have a point though, Father Comstock, that 'masturbation' isn't quite accurate either. Perhaps it could be called… Lutece… cest?" Robert snapped his fingers. "Lutecest! There, perfect."

"Very fitting, brother." Rosalind glanced at Comstock. "I think we've settled this, then?"

"I'm certain you'll find no condemnation of Lutecest in any religious text, Father Comstock," Robert added.

Comstock leaned forward, glaring daggers at the Luteces. "Get out."

Robert and Rosalind looked from Comstock, to each other, then back to Comstock. Without a word, they got up from their seats and headed for the door.

"I just hope," Comstock called out, "That the Lord could ever forgive you for your sins."

"He probably will," Rosalind said, and shut the door behind her.


End file.
